


Q is for Questions

by sodun



Series: Rarl A to Z [13]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 20 Questions, Drinking, Emo, M/M, Memories, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodun/pseuds/sodun
Summary: Ron and Carl play 20 questions.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im pale with a ghost obsession but behind the scenes with her im playing 21 questions (;
> 
> Part 17/26 of the Rarl A to Z series

"I feel like I don't know enough about you," Ron mumbled, slumping against Carl's side.

"What? You know lots about me," Carl said with a chuckle, taking a swig from the bottle of brown liquid that Ron had taken from Pete.

Ron shook his head, snatching the bottle back from Carl. "I know, but like.. I'm sure there's a lot of stuff I don't know. Like, you've told me about your life since the apocalypse, and what you did out there, but I don't know about _you_ , you know?"

"Nope, that made absolutely no sense," Carl giggled, a drunken sound that made Ron swoon, "What do you wanna know, hm?"

Ron paused, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought about what he wanted to ask. "Can we play twenty questions?" He asked, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a gulp.

Carl looked at Ron funnily. "What's that?"

"We each get to ask each other twenty questions," Ron shrugged, turning so he was facing Carl rather than the pond in front of them, "anything from favorite book to dick size," Ron laughed.

"Maybe I'd rather find out that one myself," Said Carl with a wink. He took the bottle back from Ron, swallowed down a mouthful of the bitter liquid then put it down next to him on the grass. "Okay. You start," He ordered, fiddling with the grass in front of him.

"Alright.. What's your favorite color?" Ron asked.

"Uh.. Blue. What's yours?" Carl asked with a quiet giggle, his mind too hazy to think of a different question.

"Green," Ron answered quickly, "When's your birthday?"

"March 23rd. What city did you grow up in?" Carl asked.

"Arlington. It's not too far from here," was Ron's casual response, "What about you?"

Carl shrugged, smiling sheepishly, "I don't remember. Georgia. Not far from Atlanta. What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"A social worker," Ron said with a small smile, "I wanted to help kids with.. families like mine. What happened to your mom? I mean, I assume Michonne isn't your mom.." Uncertainty and fear mixed in with his words, unsure if he was crossing a line.

The younger of the two bit his lip, grabbing the liquor and taking another swig. "When Judy was born, it was just me, my mom and Maggie. She had to have a c-section, but Maggie and I didn't know what we were doing, obviously. She either bled to death or died from the shock, I'm not sure. I.. I shot her before she turned." Carl spoke quietly, the memory still so painful. "How long has your dad been an alcoholic?"

"Long time. Since I was.. seven maybe? So.. nine years," Answered Ron with a sad smile, "How many girls have you kissed?"

Laughing, Carl shook his head, leaning forward and tapping the tip of his boyfriend's nose. "Just you, Ronnie. What about you?"

"Like, two girls before the apocalypse? And a couple guys.. two or three maybe?" Ron shrugged, "Most of them were dares. Is this your first time drinking alcohol?"

"Yessir," Carl giggled, "other than like, a sip of wine from my mom. When did you know you liked guys?"

"I always knew," Ron chuckled, picking up the half empty bottle and reading the label. "Whiskey is pretty strong for your first real drink. What about you? When did you know?"

Smiling at Ron, Carl reached out and grabbed the older boy's hand. "Not until I met you. I never thought about dating anybody until I got here. What's your favorite movie?"

"Mm.. I don't know. Probably Spirited Away. I was very into Japanese animation," Ron laughed, "What did you wanna be when you grew up?"

"A cop. I looked up to my dad and Shane, wanted to be like them. Did you do well in school?" 

"I did, for the most part," Ron said, brushing his thumb over Carl's knuckles, "When I was twelve, shit kind of went downhill. I had some type of depression, Denise figures I still do, not that it matters anymore.. Anyway, I didn't get help for it until I was like, fourteen, so for a couple years I was really messed up. I kind of didn't care about anything, school included, so I stopped handing in homework and doing shit in class. After I got put on medication I started to do well again, but then the world ended," He laughed, letting go of Carl's hand. "Who's Shane?"

"He was my dad's partner," Carl muttered, looking down, "The one who got me and my mom out of the city before it got overrun. He kind of went insane.. My dad ended up killing him. Then he came back and I put him down. He and my mom.. They were together when they thought my dad was dead. I think he's Judy's dad, but my dad is kind of oblivious. You said you were depressed.. Does that have anything to do with the scars on your arms?" Asked the younger of the two quietly, looking up at Ron with curious eyes.

"Uh.. Yeah. Some of them aren't, but a lot of them.. That's actually why my mom took me to a doctor. She saw the cuts, at first she thought they were from my dad. When I told her I did them to myself.. She was really upset. Thought she'd failed as a mother or something. I feel like I know what your next question will be, so I'll just say it now; sometimes I want to do it again. When shit happens with my dad. But.. I don't. I haven't in about a year," Ron explained, avoiding Carl's eyes, "Have you ever wanted to hurt yourself?"

"You know, I'm proud of you for stopping. I don't know much about stuff like that, but I figure it's kind of like an addiction, right? I'm happy you were able to stop, and you can resist the urge now," the younger of the two said honestly, leaning forward and kissing Ron's cheek gently.

Ron smiled softly at Carl, closing his eyes as warmth spreading through his chest like wildfire. He found little things like that so adorable and sweet. Whenever Carl shyly kissed his cheek or pecked his lips, Ron felt so much love practically radiating off of his boyfriend.

"I've never like, you know, wanted to cut myself or anything," Carl began, answering Ron's question, "There's been times I've wanted to die, because I did something bad or because living was so fucking awful. I had a gun on me all the time, and sometimes I wanted to shoot myself. I didn't, obviously, but.. Yeah. When you picture the future, what do you see?" 

Ron paused to think for a moment. "This place. I don't think the world's gonna go back to normal, at least not while I'm alive. I see myself living here for the rest of my life. I see Sam, my mom, you. I see now, really, just a little older. What about you?"

"I don't. Picture the future, I mean. Maybe it's because I don't see one. I just focus on now, you know? Cause who knows how much longer we really have? I can't remember the last time things were this good. I know that it could all end soon, so I don't like to get my hopes up." Carl said, shrugging softly. "I can't think of another question. Wanna make out instead?"

Ron laughed, lying down on the grass and pulling his boyfriend down with him. "That's a question."

"What's your answer?" Giggled Carl, so close that Ron could feel his breath.

Ron rolled his eyes before closing the gap between him and Carl, resting a hand on the younger boy's cheek.

Twenty questions was definitely a good idea.


End file.
